


Dimensional Mayhem

by Tchailenova



Series: Fortune-Cookie Inspiration [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Wars - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Lotor (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Mirror Spock Needs a Hug, Pre-Slash, Set after Mirror Mirror (Star Trek), Slow Burn, Spoilers for Season 5 (Voltron), Starts directly after Loki falls (Thor), That's Not How The Force Works, The Dark Side of the Force, These poor babies tried to dimension hop and landed in the middle of nowhere, They start with Nothing and Inherit the Stars, and also:, budding slash, but it's ok, currently they have no interaction with the plot of Star Wars, fortune cookie prompts, frienemies to allies to lovers, idek wtf i'm doing, is that a tag?, send halp, the planet is just generally amused with these angry boys, their lives are turned upside down, they'll burn this galaxy together, this is gonna be a big one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tchailenova/pseuds/Tchailenova
Summary: Three men are flung from their home-dimensions, one in an act of flight, another in an attempt of exploration, and the last in an act of betrayal. They each find themselves lost, unbalanced, and entirely out of their depths in a strange place where the stars are all wrong.They must work together to carve out a meaningful life for themselves in the galaxy, and what blossoms there in the wake of their fury will be entirely too precious to risk with thoughts of returning to the places they were born. They'll just have to subject this galaxy to their wills instead.





	1. In which a dark mirror shatters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kindof a cracky title for a not-so-cracky story, I guess... What you really need to know is that Voltron has eaten my soul alive, and the ending of season five had me screaming and yelling, haha. We'll pick up with Lotor from a point ahead of where canon ends, but the other two are relatively canonical progressions.
> 
> The fortune cookie that influences this story is: Love is the glue that holds together everything in the world.

Spock came to, with aches and discomfort in an alarming number of places. Quickly, he took stock of his surroundings and found them to be quite different from where he expected to be. A tiny moment of focus and recall, and his last memories swam to the surface - he’d been in his quarters on the ISS Enterprise, writing up a report on the misbehavior of his captain. Really, a dimension-split version of his captain. His door had easily slid open to admit his newly-returned captain, and the sizeable retinue of personal guards that went nearly everywhere with him.

A rustle of movement nearby drew him out of his memories, survival instincts surging to the fore, and he was on his feet with his dagger brandished in the space between heartbeats. The rabbit that hopped out of the bushes considered him and scurried away just as quickly, disappearing into the underbrush.

Logic told him that he wasn’t in immediate danger, but it also whispered that he’d been marooned here for having stolen from his captain. If anyone had viewed the security tapes from the transporter room, they’d know Spock had at least considered mutiny, betrayal of the Empire, and had conspired with interlopers instead of detaining them. There was enough evidence there for Kirk to suspect him of stealing the device which had proven so vital in his rise to power. Of course, Kirk would never show the tapes to anyone else, would never bring that sort of scrutiny so close to his own wild bid for Admiralty.

No, Spock wouldn’t be hunted by the Empire for desertion; he’d already been cast off and discarded by his Captain - it was a wonder why he hadn’t simply been spaced, but that was a mystery Spock would never know the answer to.

He recalled the Other Kirk’s parting words, sowing traitorous thoughts of insurrection against the Empire. A small measure of gratitude welled in him that he wouldn’t have to bear the weight of those words as he worked in the Empire. It was too dangerous to act out, to change the future or the Empire. It would die on its own, in time, under its own weight.

There was little logic in being crushed for a cause that would eventually come to pass anyway. Despite knowing this, those parting words sat heavily within him, and Spock wondered how quickly they would have torn him apart if he’d remained in the Empire. They tolerated absolutely _zero_ deviance, and even the hint of it would have won him a lengthy stint in the Agony Booth.

Spock shook his head to dispel those thoughts. He didn’t know where he was, or what he would do with his life now, but it would be very dangerous to attempt a return to the Empire. Turning away from his life’s work was painful, and he harbored hatred in his heart for Kirk (both of them in turn) and for the Empire. It seethed across his nerves and he welcomed the steely resolve left in the wake of its pulsing waves.

Kirk may have left him to die, and the Empire would surely see him broken and dead if he resurfaced, but that didn’t mean he had to actually roll over and accept their will as his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting these pretty much directly after they're finished getting written... which means these snippets have not seen any kind of red ink or any kind of dedicated editor's eyes. Please let me know if you find anything, especially continuity errors. Those are the worst!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider letting me know, or submit a request in the comments! I read all of them!


	2. In which a streak of stubborn foiled rage falls though the sky

Loki fell; in a screaming mass of color, and sound, and pain.

A never-ending tumble through the space between worlds, tearing at his seidr and leaving him feeling rough and raw in places he hadn’t felt in centuries. Time ceased to matter in that place of colors and sensations too bright and intense to bear. He closed his eyes against it, but that did nothing to stop it from seeping in and pressing painfully against his awareness anyway.

Half-mad with rage and despair and utterly-consuming desperation, the castaway False Prince of Asgard drew himself together and threw himself against the brightness in a bid for some kind of freedom. It would either free him or kill him in the attempt. A barely-recalled glimpse of disappointment in his once-father’s sad eyes seared away any hesitation that might have once bubbled within him at the thought of death, and the memory burned bitterly within him.

He’d _hated_ Odin in that moment. Where before he’d craved recognition and approval, now he only wanted to see his ~~father~~ once-father in pain of Loki’s own design. If Odin was determined to ignore him and see him only for his flaws, then Loki would _give him something to look at_. The words curled, smoke-like, around his mind and he tucked them close to his heart like something precious.

Determination steeled across his nerves. There was nothing left for him in Asgard, except to see it fall - _and fall it would_. He would make it happen.

As angry as he was, he still felt a pang of loss as he willfully discarded the few remaining ties of friendship he’d harbored within those golden halls. Losing them hurt, but the pain and disgrace born from centuries of lies told to his face - of living in his brother’s shadow - all of that had become too much for Loki to forgive or forget. Even _he_ had limits when it came to hiding his emotions. He was a monster and they would never see him as anything else but second-class at best - no matter that he'd been raised as their Prince. Loki knew the dangerous whims of a crowd pushed to the boiling point; knew better than to ask them to see him as anything other than unworthy. He was tired of living as Thor’s second _anything_.

_I will see them all regard me as ‘Most Important’ even if that means being the instrument of their destruction. Even if it kills me._

Those words flickered across the angry maelstrom of his mind and in them he found purpose.

He hurled himself against the edges of between-space again and finally felt it tear around him. He was free. And falling in a different way, now.

The ground rushed up at him in muted brown and green blurs and Loki had but a moment to thank the fates that he’d been blessed with a resilient body - he was confident he would survive the fall, and then, _Oh then_ , all the worlds would be ablaze with the proof of his vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder, though I doubt anyone's forgotten since last chapter: I'm posting these pretty much directly after they're finished getting written... which means these snippets have not seen any kind of red ink or any kind of dedicated editor's eyes. Please let me know if you find anything, especially continuity errors. Those are the worst!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider letting me know, or submit a request in the comments! I read all of them!


	3. In which an Emperor dashes himself against his dreams for his Empire

Bitterness twisted at Lotor’s heart as he manipulated the controls on the ship he’d stolen out from under everyone’s noses. He was Emperor, yes, but the delicate balance of peace depended entirely upon power; power he would have to flex over his subjects, or power that he would have to supply to his subjects.

Power that Allura had denied him.

Granted, she’d seen what his empire had done with the power she’d supplied, and backed out of their deal. She hadn’t been willing to be the instrument that empowered the fallen empire’s rise back into it’s old dominion.

They had taken what she’d given, had taken it greedily - taking it into themselves and making their bodies stronger and less susceptible to death. He had done the same, of course; his promises of quintessence weren’t just for his people, but himself as well. He hadn’t been expecting the behavioral changes, though.

Those changes, subtly building in himself as they were, made his father’s actions so much easier to understand. _Why_ not _rule dominion over a clearly inferior galaxy?_ The whispers lay in a tight circle around his heart, arguing with the ideals and beliefs he’d maintained for centuries. A few decades of exposure to the corruptive influences of quintessence would be easy to submit to, would be _easy_ to allow to rule his will.

When Allura explained why she was stopping her research into quintessence, all of them on the bridge of the castle-ship, the Paladins had been especially difficult to face when their expressions shifted into disgust and such empty disappointment. Lotor held his head up with pride, clinging to everything he remembered of himself from _before_ , desperate to withstand the changes the quintessence doses had twisted inside of him.

Shame burned at him in equal time to his angry heartbeat. Quintessence might not be the answer he’d hoped it would be, but he still needed a viable source of it to keep his Empire under control. Else a bloody civil war would rip across the galaxy, more destructive than the Galra’s invasive forces had ever been. Without anyone to keep them tightly leashed, the Generals and the whole Military arm of the Empire would seek out their quintessence from wherever they could get it.

Lotor, bastard halfling Prince, gripped the controls tighter with growing desperation. He _needed_ to get some quintessence for himself, the purer the better, and the best place he knew for that was the space between dimensions. The lions had breached the gap twice before that he could confirm, and he’d been able to slip away with a small portion of the comet he’d stolen from his father. It was now his, by rights, but to take it would have been to expose his weakness; the act would have irreparably undermined his power over his people.

If he had taken enough to be missed, enough to ensure his safe return, they would have noticed it and discovered the truth of Allura’s betrayal. His people would cry for her blood and would rampage across the galaxy in their old familiar ways before he had a chance to reign them in again. No; he had only been able to steal enough for a small craft - even smaller than their standard fighters. He hoped the portion he'd stolen would be enough to enter the breach and exit unharmed.

So Lotor slipped away from his warship in his prepared craft, ready to make the jump between dimensions. Stars screamed past him, stretching into lines across his view screen, and his fingers moved like fire across the console, compensating for stellar drift and quantum expansion as the device around the comet-shards behind him whirred up to speed. He needed quintessence, if only enough to hold his Empire under his thumb while he whipped it into shape; they would never listen to him without it. It had barely been enough of a power-display to have killed his father, but Lotor would need a new trump-card if he wanted to bring his father’s twisted Empire to heel.

Space split and cracked before him, swallowing him and his craft whole into a horrible gaping void. As the ship passed through, reality pressed in on him like nothing he’d ever felt before. The pressure was incredible, and he was just conscious for long enough to realize that space had torn around him again, spitting him out into a star-littered section of space. Lotor hadn’t managed to stay long enough to gather any quintessence.

The knowledge of his failure ate at him, even as his body succumbed to the stresses of his wild bid for power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder, though I doubt anyone's forgotten since last chapter: I'm posting these pretty much directly after they're finished getting written... which means these snippets have not seen any kind of red ink or any kind of dedicated editor's eyes. Please let me know if you find anything, especially continuity errors. Those are the worst!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider letting me know, or submit a request in the comments! I read all of them!


	4. In which a Vulcan is startled and deeply suspicious

The sun was high in the sky, filtering through a sparse green canopy, as Spock explored the area. He still had his dagger and his phaser, on his belt as usual - as though he’d been summarily disposed of immediately after Kirk had cornered him in his quarters. Of course, they hadn’t bothered to supply him with rations when they’d marooned him.

Spock wasn’t terribly concerned about survival rations. The local wildlife would likely be enough to sustain him at least long enough to get himself off this rock.

His thoughts wandered as he picked his way through the underbrush. _The real question here is what I will do once I get back to civilization. I cannot return to the Empire. They will strike me down for abandoning my post, or they will investigate and strike me down for treasonous plots._ He sliced a few offending vines harshly as his anger bubbled up and outward at the dark turn of his thoughts.

Something _other_ swirled against his awareness and he stilled suddenly; suspicion and paranoia pulsing through his veins. It disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, but the sensation followed him eerily, and he was left with the sensation of being watched.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar thought; he’d spent the vast majority of his life under intense scrutiny from one authority or another. With the ease of long practice, Spock pushed past the discomfort and returned to his surveillance, reserving a small portion of his awareness to keep tabs on the watchful presence.

He had just heard the telltale trickle of water burbling in a nearby stream when something came screaming out of the sky in a brilliant array of flashing lights and thundrous sound that rattled the forest around him into startled silence.

His mind raced with possibilities, caught between considering the merits of rushing forward to discover what had happened, or staying hidden in the forest. There was a slight chance that Kirk had sent down a hunting party, to ensure his death. _It is better to know for sure_ , he decided and made his way toward the landing site. Luckily for him, it had streaked across the sky pretty clearly, and was easily traced.

When he finally came upon the landing site, Spock felt his eyebrows raise in disbelief.

No shuttle in sight, no wreckage, but the humanoid body in the center appeared to still be alive - for all that it had clearly caused the crater around it. Dirt had sprayed over the pale skin and strange clothing, dark hair in complete disarray. Spock moved cautiously around the crater, still not entirely sure it wasn’t a trap, and saw the man’s chest move rhythmically in an unnatural imitation of breathing. Everything about this was faintly worrisome and further added baffling variables that Spock had no grounds to understand.

No known race had the physical hardiness to withstand an impact of this scale, for all that the man had clearly suffered great harm upon his graceless landing.

It was seeming less and less likely that Kirk had sent the man after him, but the Vulcan drew his dagger as he approached anyway. As he approached, the presence from before surged up around him and settled in the air, leaving an artificial calm in its wake. Wariness filled him, but it wasn’t enough to deter his curiosity. This _was_ technically First Contact as far as he knew. And, as much as he was beginning to doubt the Empire’s ways, there was only one set of rules he knew that detailed how to handle First Contact.

Before he could do any of that, though, he had to make sure this man lived long enough to wake up.


	5. In Which Spock Makes Camp, and First Contact is Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is so much shorter than the others have been xD I didn't have much time for writing recently, and this was the best place for a chapter-break

As near as Spock could tell, given his limited medical knowledge and missing his tricorder, the man had broken several bones. He couldn’t be sure about his spine, though, so Spock fashioned a crude stretcher with some saplings lashed together with vines. It would have made even the haphazard Doctor McCoy weep, but it was serviceable, and a crater was no place to be treating such potentially severe wounds. As he worked to move the man back to the stream, his quick mind ran through the calculations of speed on impact and the general rigidity and structure of the human body.

There was no way a human could have survived the impact. The breathing man behind him, for all that he appeared human outwardly, was far hardier even than a Klingon. That sent a trill of worry through Spock’s nerves. What monstrosity had he discovered? Whatever they were, this race would be excellent personal guards and assassins. Spock forcibly set that way of thinking aside. He was no longer in the Empire. No longer in a position where such things were a necessity.

He considered the man carefully as he maneuvered them into a clearing near the river. He would make for a fine ally in any case, if he didn’t die before morning. Spock didn’t know anything about his disposition or willingness, but he knew it would be highly illogical to antagonize this man into becoming an enemy.

Working efficiently, Spock secured a basic camp, with a meagre shelter erected and a small fire cheerily crackling away long before twilight fell and the stranger groaned into wakefulness. Bright, angry green eyes latched onto him, and Spock was effectively pinned in place as he knelt to tend the fire.

“Where?” the stranger croaked weakly, and Spock felt a chill of unease settle across his bones.

When he didn’t answer, the stranger roughly levered himself into a sitting position and demanded, “You moved me; Where are we?” The note of fear in the man’s voice filtered in distantly through Spock’s more pressing distraction and concern.

_ If he is a candidate for First Contact, and the Empire did not send him, then  _ how _ is he speaking Vulcan - without even the merest hint of an accent? _


	6. In which the stars are definitely not what anyone expects

_ Well, that answers the concerns about his spine, I suppose,  _ Spock thought wryly in the back of his mind.

Choosing to ignore the particulars of language for the moment, Spock answered as he rose and went to the stranger’s side to press him back onto the stretcher. “We are approximately 2 kilometers from where you landed. You should not move around too much, I believe you broke several bones in your fall,” Spock intoned as evenly as he could.

Miraculously, the stranger went without a fuss, and relaxed back onto the crude stretcher.

The stranger’s eyes studied the stars, furrowed his brows, and his gaze went unfocused. Spock was about to ask what was wrong, when he felt that watchful presence from before. It uncurled into the space around him like a le-matya rising from a nap - all sated and warm and immediately on alert.

He pressed against it curiously, and felt the stranger’s focus narrow sharply on him again.

“Where are we?” He demanded lowly, dangerously.

Spock didn’t understand until the man’s hand pushed his jaw so he was looking at the stars. Recognition flashed in him even as he felt certainty slip away. If it were logical to curse, he would have. He refused to let fear of the unknown take hold in him, though, despite how utterly strange the stars were. He didn’t have perfect recall of the star charts for this system, but his memories were clear enough to know these were  _ definitely not _ the same stars.

The stranger’s hand drew away from his jaw and he felt an echo of disappointment filter through the presence around him. It was another element of strangeness, but it wasn’t something he could dwell on at the moment.

“I woke up here, marooned by my captain. Those stars are nothing like what I expected to see,” He explained smoothly, with more calm than he necessarily felt. This was certainly not the place to let his emotions rule his actions.

“Like me, then,” the stranger said quietly, and added in an even quieter tone, “sort of.”

Curiosity won out, finally, and Spock indulged himself, “How do you know my native language, if I may ask?” Bright green eyes trained on him suspiciously and Spock elaborated, “It is uncommon to hear it outside my homeworld. The Empire has never seen fit to include it in cadet courses,” he explained, baffled at how this man might know High Vulcan and yet not know how rare it was to hear it.

The stranger lifted his chin haughtily, “I am Loki, and I may speak whatever language I please.”

It wasn’t quite an answer, but at least Spock had a name for the stranger now. He nodded as though it had answered his question and retreated to the other side of the fire to contemplate his new discoveries. The stars, in particular, were first in his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder, since it's been a few days: I'm (still) posting these pretty much directly after they're finished getting written... which means these snippets have not seen any kind of red ink or any kind of dedicated editor's eyes. Please let me know if you find anything, especially continuity errors. Those are the worst!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider letting me know in the comments! I read all of them! Requests are also welcome ^_~*


	7. In which Lotor tempts fate

Lotor woke to the angry screeching of his ship’s alarms and bright flashing lights. Warnings popped across the screens in such quick succession he had to look away to settle his stomach and press away the headache that was pressing in against his eyes. He was still out of sorts from the unpleasant dimensional jump he’d attempted. Clearly, he would need more of the meteor next time to sustain a jump of any meaningful size.

It would have been faster and easier to catalogue which systems _weren’t_ in disorder, but at least his ship gave him the increasingly grim news in a sensible order. By the time it got to “ _failing gravity plates_ ” and “ _switching to emergency lights_ ”, Lotor knew he would be crashing on the planet that had grown ominously large in his viewscreen. The greenness below promised trees and sustainable life, and the Emperor did his best to crash in that direction.

The trees would also provide a more forgiving landing, if he could manage to get it there in the first place.

His ship tumbled into the night-side’s atmosphere with an uneasy groan and subsequent panicking shrieks - as though it _knew_ what waited at the end of this particular drop. _To be fair_ , Lotor thought wryly, _It knew its fate before I did._ He spared a thankful thought to it for getting him this far, and wrestled with gravity and the rushing air, struggling to coax the landing vectors into the far patch of trees instead of the rocky expanse before them.

The unknown planet rushed up to meet him, and Lotor fought with the ship to keep it from falling apart. In some stroke of luck, he passed over the rocky plains and just barely managed to skim the canopies of the first line of trees. It was barely enough to slow him down, but he felt the hull groan against the branches ominously and knew it was a good sign. The cacophony was unnerving, even though he knew it was the best crash landing he could have hoped for.

At long last, his ship shuddered to a stop, having lost both wings and the back-half of it on the descent.

 _At least I’m alive,_ he reminded himself, fighting against the feeling of helplessness that rose in his chest. _The radio equipment is still in working order,_ he glanced over the control panel, _unless these lights are faulty, of course._ He heaved a sigh and ran the standard comms check - nodding in relief when he heard the resultant crackle and successful test-tones.

Tight-lipped, he flicked the necessary levers and buttons to send out an emergency beacon. It would be tricky to explain _why_ he was out here, but there wasn’t anything for that now. The comm panel chirped in confirmation and he turned his attention to salvaging his situation. _How bad could it be, really?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please let me know if you find anything amiss, especially continuity errors. Those are the worst!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider letting me know in the comments! I read all of them! Requests are also welcome ^_~*


	8. Landfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on the late update for this chapter! It's a smidge short, too, but things in the story should pick up soon!!

Several minutes later, Lotor realized exactly how bad things were. The half of his ship that had been taken apart by trees was the half with the emergency rations and shelter supplies.

He ran a hand through his hair in a fit of frustration, resisting the urge to scream.  _ At least I’m not on an unknown planet without a weapon _ , he reminded himself, fondly patting the blade at his waist.  _ Bless the Galra Empire for having no concept of a ‘Ceremonial Weapon’, _ he laughed to himself.

_ For all that I dislike their warlike nature, this may end up saving my life while I’m here, _ Lotor squinted through the darkness and scanned the trees grimly,  _ where ever ‘here’ is. _

_ First, I need to find a defensible place to stay. _ Without knowing how long the nights were, there was no guarantee of safety if he stayed in his ship under cover of dark.  _ Besides, I just crashed down across the night sky. There is little that would have missed that, and I would rather be  _ outside _ my ship, than trapped inside for an ambush. Especially when I have no idea what kind of planet I’ve landed on. _

He’d managed to glimpse a rocky rise not far from the path of his ship’s destruction. So, hoping for an abandoned cave, Lotor gathered up the meteor in a small bag and made his way for the ridge.

Before he got there, he spotted a tall tree with sturdy branches. The need to know where he was urged him up the tree, bag clenched between his teeth.

Lotor finally broke through the upper canopy, and nearly dropped the bag when he realized he didn’t recognize any of the star formations. They should have been at least a little familiar, he hadn’t gone very far to attempt his dimensional trip -

His thoughts caught on that and stumbled. A bolt of fear and unease rippled through him even as he hoped he was mistaken.

It was  _ possible _ the meteor shard had drawn him through to another dimension, instead of just pushing him back where he belonged. He wondered what the actual requirements were for jumping dimensions - and what they were for controlling where the jump led, and what it would take to just breach the divide without falling into the dimension on the other side.

He thought of the emergency beacon his ship had sent out earlier, and knew it would never be received. He was much more alone on this strange planet - in this unknown dimension - than he had realized, and it made Lotor feel more  _ alone _ than he’d ever felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I anticipate these three will all meet in the next couple of chapters. I hope you're looking forward to it as much as I am!


	9. Loki senses Lotor's Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of backtracking in this chapter, but I promise not to make a habit of such things. Happy (belated) April Fools, y'all!

Loki snapped awake at the insistent pressing of Seidr that he was awash in on this planet - it was the most _lively_ world he’d encountered since visiting Alfheim, and it had his teeth on edge. He had just enough time to quell his heartbeat before he spotted what had prompted the warning. Color streaked across his vision, painting the sky above with fire and purple light, crashing through the canopy with the sounds of protesting metal and screaming sirens. He pressed a hand against his ribs, testing their hold and took a moment to reinforce the strands of his magic that held them in place while they healed. It wasn’t as good as a proper healing session, but it would hold well enough for now.

The stranger across the fire was standing already, eyes trained on the trail of destruction the ship had carved nearby. Loki stood gingerly, hating the disadvantage his broken bones inflicted upon him - but he would rather die than show weakness. Especially before one who had already displayed an ability to move Seidr. It had carried the marks of an untrained child, casting about haphazardly, but Loki knew better than to underestimate someone’s abilities just because they appeared childlike.

“I should look into that,” the man started and Loki cut him off with a haughty scoff.

“I’ll be going with you,” he declared, ignoring the concern that flickered in the man’s gaze.

He shook his head decisively, with all the authority of a General, “Loki, no.”

Hot emotion bubbled up within Loki at those words, and memories of a disappointed ~~father~~ king burned in his chest. “I will do as I please!” Loki scowled, daring the other man to cross him. He didn’t _need_ help to survive, and certainly didn’t _want_ anything from him - stranger as he was.

The once-Prince of Asgard stalked off into the trees silently, picking his way through the shadows with less care than he otherwise would have. Not like stealth mattered, anyway; not with the racket the ship was causing as it slammed through trees.

The other man had just caught up with him when the ground shuddered in time with the sound of a great crash. The ship had finally come to rest. Loki felt the Seidr around him shiver and ripple and he cast a glance to his unwelcome companion. The man’s face was eerily blank, though, so Loki stretched his awareness outward, seeking an explanation. The planet was just as bright as before, but in the path of destruction before them, Loki felt another glowing presence - from which ripples of unease and frustration emanated.

Loki was baffled. He had never felt emotions through his awareness of Seidr before - not even in the presence of The Fates at their Fountains in the heart of Yggdrasil.

Silence descended around them as Loki and the stranger made their way toward the crash-site, passing increasingly-large pieces of the ship that had passed overhead. Loki’s hopes of finding the ship and flying it home were looking steadily further and further afield as they approached.

He still didn’t know where he was, for that matter. He hadn’t recognized any of the stars earlier, and a growing sense of unease was firmly settled under his heart. He knew, vaguely, what his tumble through the time-less expanse could have meant. Loki hoped that he’d fallen _out_ on one of the further branches of the world-tree and not _through_ the branches entirely.

Once he was healed and away from strangers, and could safely walk his mind out across the reaches of Seidr and the branches of Yggdrasil, he could figure out where he was and how to get home. For now, it seemed he would have to wait. The solitude of a ship in orbit was looking less and less likely; the closer he came to the wreckage, the more debris he passed. Whoever had been on the ship was terribly lucky they hadn't died in the descent - as fragile as mortals were.


	10. Spock investigates the Wreckage

The wreckage of the spacecraft would likely never see space again. Spock could tell that from the first glance he caught of the mangled heap of what was probably the pod’s cockpit. They had passed two vaguely engine-like shapes, and the scattered remains of what were probably wings. All that remained now was to check for survivors.

Loki and he circled the craft, smoking and sparking as it was, looking for signs of life. Well, he wasn’t quite sure what Loki was looking for; the man hadn’t said a word since his defiant outburst in the clearing. To the man’s credit, he was surprisingly mobile for someone who’d suffered broken bones only hours ago. The mysteries surrounding him grew thicker and thicker, and Spock found himself drawn to unravelling the puzzle.

To his surprise, none of the labels inside the craft were legible. The displays were all dark, of course, but it was still surprising that he didn’t even recognize the language. Perhaps his Universal Translator implant needed more to work off of before it could cope with this new language. _Great_ , he groaned to himself, _yet more unknown elements. Perhaps_ these _are the ones Kirk sent to kill me._

“There are tracks over here,” Loki called from the far side of the wreckage, “I’m going to follow them.”

Spock nodded, understanding the value of communication between them, even if they weren’t exactly allies - they were at least more familiar than whoever this craft had brought. “Don’t get lost,” he called back blandly, half-teasing.

Loki scoffed as he moved further into the undamaged forest around them, and Spock focused on the wreckage - wondering what vital parts were undamaged and could be safely extracted. The style of construction was unfamiliar to him, and worse: the technology appeared wildly different from what he was familiar with - even from the foreign technologies he’d studied at the Imperial Academy.

 _What if this is Loki’s ship, with reinforcements,_ the sudden suspicion settled coldly in Spock’s chest and he couldn’t dislodge it, even with a liberal application of reasoning. Caught up in that, he couldn’t focus on detangling the mess of technology that was sprawled before him. Instead, self-preservation had him circling the craft to find Loki’s tracks, intent on following him silently; to discover any secret plots. He was no stranger to assassination plots and discreet attacks, not to mention his physical capabilities which outpaced most humans without trying. Killing him would be difficult at best, and Spock had no intention of going easy on them if they attempted it.

He found Loki’s tracks easily, beside the slightly-older trail that - upon close inspection - seemed to indicate only a single person. That was a spot of relief for Spock. Only one additional person wouldn’t be too difficult to handle. Loki’s general _resiliency_ still presented a concern _(he survived a fall with enough velocity to create a crater - how much more would it take to_ kill _him if he became too troublesome?)_ but only one more of his kind was infinitely preferred to an entire squad of reinforcements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was shorter, but don't fret! The next one is coming soon!


	11. Standoff!

In the deepening darkness of the forest, it became too difficult to follow the tracks with his eyes alone, so Spock stretched out his senses - seeking sounds that might be the frighteningly light-footed Loki or his quarry, and anything else in the forest. He didn’t relish an ambush just because he’d missed a few key cues.

His eyesight wasn’t spectacular in the dark but his hearing was quite remarkable, especially by human standards.

_ Imperial Wilderness Survival Courses _ hadn’t exactly covered this, but Spock's history in the vast and unforgiving desert of his homeworld had prepared him (like little else in his life could have) for nighttime hunting. Slowly, the sounds of the forest filled his awareness. He could hear distant rustles and chittering of night-bugs and small nocturnal animals, the faint footfalls of something like deer farther off, and -  _ just there! _ \- the steady, measured footsteps of someone carefully following a difficult trail.

Barely sparing a moment for thought, Spock got his bearings between himself, the ship, and Loki, before quietly following after him. He picked his way as quickly and carefully as he could with his diminished vision - trying not to make much noise - and even though he had to stop occasionally to hear Loki again and correct his course, Spock was catching up to him.

* * *

 

As Lotor scanned his surroundings, looking for the ridge while he still had the advantage of height, he suddenly became aware of a quickly-approaching creature who must have been tracking him in near-silence. There hadn't been time to scan for natural life signs, but the forest around him seemed to be teeming with life. There was a much greater chance that he was being hunted by a predator, compared to the minute chance that he was being chased down by anyone who knew him. Deciding to wait it out, Lotor flattened himself against the trunk of the tree, cursing his white hair and the bright twin moons. He could only hope that whoever was tracking him didn't look up.

* * *

Some might say it's wrong to take fierce delight in cornering helpless and unaware prey, but Loki was not one of those people. He'd grown up in a warrior's society, where might makes right. In his experience, cleverness had ruled the field of battle more often than not, and mercy had led to regret. So he made no move to quell his rising glee as he closed in on his quarry.

The trail had gotten fresher, as though they had slowed down to pick their way more carefully through the underbrush. Conversely, this made the trail easier for Loki to track, and he eagerly quickened his pace.

It led him to a small clearing in which the trail suddenly stopped, which meant his prey had gone up. Casting his luminous green eyes toward the canopy, Loki scanned the tree-tops. He nearly snorted at what he found in the boughs of the tallest tree. Pale skin and silvered hair shone brightly, catching and reflecting all the rays of moonlight that it could reach. Tucked away in the relative darkness of foliage, it almost seemed as though the creature itself gave off light.

_ Elf. _ Loki's mind supplied absently, wondering if he hadn't landed on Alfheim after all. Considering Loki had no idea where the nearest settlement was, he was left with little choice. He never had many friends on Alfheim , but there was nothing for it - he'd have to make contact eventually.

This person would know where they were, for all that they'd crash-landed like a falling meteor. Beyond that: Loki's Seidr seemed to be reaching out curiously, something that hadn't happened in quite a long time. Something within him recognized this stranger as  _ familiar _ , as  _ the same _ , and though he tamped down firmly on the instinctual response to pull the pale-haired stranger closer, neither could he bear to let them go.

So he called out, from the base of the tree, gaze unerringly pinned on the elf. "Come down from there," He beckoned, keeping his tone light and amiable, though his words were every inch the command of an Asgardian Prince, "I am Loki, and I would have words with you."

* * *

Lotor looked down, heart in his throat and pulsing madly, into twin orbs of green fire. He felt an instinctual urge to run - this thing had tracked him down so easily, and pulled at something deep within him in an alien way - this was no mere mortal man who called himself Loki. It was impossible to tell what species Loki was from 20 meters away in the deep shadows under the tree, but he exuded the presence of a predator. Lotor reminded himself that he was  _ Galra _ \- the Emperor of the Galra Empire, in fact - and that he would not cringe and bow or flee before this unknown stranger. He'd never done so in his life, and he certainly wasn't going to start now.

Gripping tightly to the blade at his waist, still sheathed, he tilted his head back haughtily. He heard the command in the other's words, and pride made him gaze out across the treetops for a handful of heartbeats. Lotor, despite being quite intimidated, still had the high ground and refused to obey a stranger's commands. He found the ridge-line he'd been searching for before, and marked it in his mind so he could find it once he returned to solid ground.

"Are you planning on making me wait all night?" Loki's voice carried up to him easily, sounding equal-parts amused and annoyed.

Lotor glared at the stranger on the ground, "I answer to no-one," he called haughtily back.

Silence met his proclamation, and then Lotor felt tiny tremors radiating up the tree. He looked down, and was surprised to see the man climbing up to meet him. He suddenly wished he'd gotten out of the tree. Soon he would have neither high ground, nor easy maneuverability, and he would prefer to be on the ground with plenty of space to put between himself and this unnerving stranger.

"Wait," he bade, unable to keep his tone completely even, "I'll come to you."

The stranger jumped out of the tree, landing smoothly, and looked up expectantly at Lotor, seeming utterly unphased by what must have been at least a 6 meter drop.

Lotor knew when he was outmatched, though he was  _ loathe _ to admit it - even privately. The descent from the canopy was easier than his ascent, and soon he found himself close enough to jump the remaining distance. Unwilling to concede even a minor victory to this stranger, perhaps because Lotor already found himself losing ground, he dropped the final 6 meters and refrained from grimacing as the shock of his landing echoed up his bones.

Now that he was in closer proximity to the stranger, he found Loki's eyes weren't  _ actually _ glowing green - it had been a mere trick of the moonlight. It was surprisingly comforting to have that element of  _ other-ness _ stripped away. The man spread his hands wide and low, as though to show how utterly harmless he was. Lotor didn't believe it for one second, but before he could scoff his disbelief, the man was talking again.

"Hail, Elf, and good fortune to you," Loki sketched what Lotor assumed was the echo of a polite bow, "I have traveled here, beyond my usual methods, and I find I cannot recognize these stars." He gestured above them absently, then frowned as though considering the merits of asking his question. "Where are we?"

Lotor shook his head, "I don't know either. I assume you've seen the remnants of my ship already?" he checked, and got a decisive nod in return. "My navigation system might have been able to tell me, but these stars are," he clasped his hands behind his back to hide a nervous gesture, "equally unfamiliar."

He watched as a whisper of dismay clouded Loki's expression before it was cleared away just as quickly as it had appeared. His skin was starting to prickle unpleasantly, though, and Lotor was reminded that he'd wanted to put a lot of space between himself and this predator who'd tracked him too easily for comfort.

He was just about to do just that, making any excuses he could to just  _ get away _ , when another dark haired male passed from dark forest into the silvered pool of light in the clearing.

* * *

Spock took one look at Loki's prey and knew it was no species he'd ever encountered before, despite seeing many things on his long and decorated tour of the Galaxy. Therefore, this stranger was likely  _ not _ an assassination attempt sent by his once-Captain. The probability that he wasn't (currently) the target of assassination settled Spock's nerves and he shifted his full attention to making contact as neutrally as possible.

"Greetings, stranger," his tone was carefully neutral and he nodded in the stranger's direction, as cordial as he had ever been to his fellow officers. There were no alliances between them yet, but Spock knew his chances of survival in a strange place would be astronomically higher if he wasn't also fighting with either of these two. Something brushed against his mind, again, and he spared half of his focus to trace out where the psychic touch had come from.  _ Perhaps we are not as alone here as it seems, _ Spock mused, hopeful that the locals would be useful and willing to help.

The lilac-skinned newcomer barely spared him a glance before marginally inclining his head. Spock chose not to be offended. He'd been on the receiving end of Loki's focus only hours ago, but he could only imagine what the man must be feeling now to have been hunted down so effortlessly.

He watched as the man's pale hair shimmered in the moonlight, telegraphing the tiny motion he'd made in preparation to run. It wasn't hard to guess at the man's intentions, especially when he glanced calculatingly between Spock and Loki and himself.

"Peace, Elf. We mean you no harm," Loki spoke charmingly into the night, and Spock wondered if he'd imagined the unspoken, ' _ yet, _ ' that hung in the air.

The man lifted his chin haughtily, "I am Lotor, Emperor of the Galra Empire," he declared with passion in his eyes, "and I am no  _ elf _ ."

Hearing Lotor claim to be an Emperor made Spock even more certain that Lotor had not been sent by Kirk. Curiously, it sounded to Spock as though he were using the title as a sword and shield, but he could hardly judge the man for using the same tactic that had kept Spock alive for the past several decades.

"Indeed," Loki replied, and Spock could plainly hear the mocking laughter in his tone, "my apologies, Emperor."

Lotor turned his gaze on Spock expectantly and Spock dipped his head in a more formal greeting, offering his own name at the clear demand, "Spock."

"No title to offer?" Lotor sneered.

Spock frowned in sharp disdain, "There is no title I wish to claim anymore, nor one worthy of me from an Empire that would see me dead."

To his surprise, both men in the clearing huffed and shrugged minutely, as though momentarily reliving an unpleasant memory. Loki nodded once to himself and Lotor pinned Spock with a deceptively calm expression, "The  _ Galra _ Empire?"

Spock fixed him with an unimpressed glare, "I have never heard of the Galra Empire in my life."

At that declaration, Lotor's face paled considerably and he cast his wide gaze toward the stars, totally ignoring Loki for the first time since Spock had stepped into the pool of moonlight. The man searched the constellations frantically and frowned angrily at the trees that obscured the vast majority of the sky. Without a word, he turned and stepped away, and suddenly Loki was in front of him again.

Not quite blocking his path, but definitely in Lotor's way, Loki appraised him with false amusement dancing in his green eyes, "Offended he didn't recognize your precious Empire?"

Lotor scoffed, "He is either lying and I'll deal with the insult later, or something  _ else _ is happening, in which case my Empire will be the least of my concerns." Spock's experienced gaze caught the moment Lotor settled one hand on his hip and the other on the hilt of his sword. He would bet that blade was just as 'ceremonial' as his own. "There is a ridge some distance that way," Lotor continued imperiously, "Follow me or stay, but don't get in my way."

Though Spock caught the edge of fear in his tone, he couldn't be sure whether it was due to Loki's intense presence or something else. Soon enough, Lotor had stalked off into the trees with Loki keeping pace beside him, and Spock carefully noted the new angle before following them, ensuring he'd be able to retrace their steps to the ship and his meagre campsite.

* * *

The twin moons had risen high overhead by the time the mismatched group silently crested the ridge Lotor had spotted from the canopy. They spread out on the ridge and scoured the night sky in relative solitude, putting as much space between them for safety as they dared, collectively worrying simultaneously about attacks and chasing down a runner. Knowing where they had landed would be invaluable for getting back to their homes, and none of them could risk letting that information slip away. In strained company, the three strangers stood gazing at the night sky, searching for familiar markers and formations, trying to account for atmospheric scattering and the bright silvery light from the moons that washed out the dimmer stars.

-

Loki sat first, anger and tension clear in the line of his shoulders, desperation clouding the air around him. The stars were unfamiliar, but more damning than that was the absolute absence of Yggdrasil. He couldn't feel the branches which should have cradled this world. Even accounting for Loki’s injury and unwillingness to leave his body undefended in the presence of strangers, he should still have been able to sense the branches of the tree. That he could not feel even the slightest hint worried Loki deeply.

Yggdrasil had always been there, pressing subtly against his Seidr in the background; his awareness of the worlds and the connections between them had always been founded on the tree. Without it, Loki felt untethered, as though he were floating lost in empty space. The thought seemed depressingly accurate, as the planet beneath him sailed among unfamiliar stars. Without Yggdrasil's branching connections, Loki would not be able to find his way back. He was utterly stranded.

-

Spock stood long after Loki had sat, until the moons had set a little farther in the sky, waiting for a familiar stellar formation to appear over the horizon. He had thoroughly studied the area's star charts as demanded of the primary science officer on the Enterprise.

Eventually, he had to accept the truth of the evidence laid before him, as unwelcome as it was. Even accounting for days of travel at high warp while he was unconscious, these didn't match up with the stars he'd last seen. More concerningly, they were utterly unknown to him. There was a  _ tiny _ chance the planet was inhabited and he could bribe or blackmail his way back to civilization, or possibly carve out a living with the locals. However, it was far more likely for the Captain to have marooned him in a place that would ensure an unpleasant death. Risking the chance that the Vulcan might survive, albeit isolated and forgotten, would be a dangerous loose thread for Kirk to leave behind.

For Spock’s foreseeable future these two men were the only source of potential company; with all their hostility, he doubted their long-term usefulness. The sky had convinced Spock of its strangeness, and he sat waiting in hesitant camaraderie. They were all lost, they may as well all be lost together… at least until civility ran out in favor of survival.

-

Lotor appraised the sky, waiting as Spock had for more stars to be revealed, dimly registering when Spock sat heavily several meters away. When the stars refused to reveal anything remotely familiar, he desperately cast his senses wider, feeling for the quintessence of the world. Very rarely, he could feel the energy of the planets he visited, and sometimes he got flashes of insight regarding his location.

Unexpectedly, the quintessence moved against his awareness. Lotor's eyes popped open in surprise; He'd never felt anything even remotely  _ sentient _ from quintessence before... except in the mystical place he had traveled to with Allura where they were tested. His mouth twisted into a frown, remembering the dismay and frustration that had coursed through him as the ghosts had judged him unworthy.

Something pressed against his mind again, drawing his attention sharply out of his memories. There were no words in the whisper that brushed across his awareness, but he felt the meaning behind it anyway, " _ Welcome, traveller. _ " Lotor knew then, with that awful surety his predictions sometimes had, that he was in an alternate dimension.

He hadn't just failed to stay in the quintessence field with his too-tiny stolen ship and tinier meteor fragment, he had slipped through the other side into a different place entirely. Shock shuddered through him and he felt his legs collapse beneath him. He was well and truly stuck, and nobody would know where he had gone. No one was coming for him - he was alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (what is consistent chapter length!??!?)
> 
> Thanks for being patient with the wait on this one. It's not currently my main WIP, but I love it like my favorite mistress (just don't tell the others).


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